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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27319699">Of Kings, Tragedies, and Love Songs</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/bi_leigh_bi/pseuds/bi_leigh_bi'>bi_leigh_bi</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Trust (TV 2018)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Infidelity, M/M, Semi-Public Sex, Sex</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 21:40:49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,586</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27319699</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/bi_leigh_bi/pseuds/bi_leigh_bi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Whatever Leonardo had expected of Primo, of how he might finally come into his own or find his demise, this was not one of them. A kingdom of their own. A true change in fortune. An empire to live on after them.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Leonardo/Primo Nizzuto</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>95</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Of Kings, Tragedies, and Love Songs</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Love is a funny thing, so they say.</p><p>But no... no. Love is a dangerous and unpredictable thing. Sometimes soft and lovely and sometimes disastrous and deadly. Sometimes even biting and violent and angry. </p><p>In these ways, Leonardo thinks, Primo and love have a great deal in common. Not that he would ever expect anyone else to see it, to know it, to even imagine it. One did not particularly associate Primo Nizzuto with love.</p><p>He had never received it growing up and had not grown up to know it, to even seemingly desire it. Leonardo doesn’t think that’s the only reason Primo is... Primo... but he thinks it might be the root of it. Had the boy had a mother, a father that did not beat him constantly, an uncle that did not refuse to take him in... had Leo been brave enough then to stand up for him when they were both so much younger... how different would he be? </p><p>Or had he always been headed down this path? Did it truly run in one’s blood? </p><p>“Where is your mind, baby lion?” Primo asks, leg kicking out to nudge at Leonardo’s thigh. “Give me that if you aren’t going to fucking drink it.” </p><p>Leonardo startles out of his stupor. The bottle is in his hand, but he’d been staring at Primo’s profile for who knew how long. In the light of the setting sun he is hard to look away from. His hair is pulled back, the ocean breeze having long since annoyed him into tying it up, but pieces have fallen loose and they frame his gaunt face. His shirt is halfway unbuttoned, necklaces gleaming on his chest. His suit jacket was discarded hours and hours ago. He is beautiful.  </p><p>He is beautiful in the way that only dangerous things can be. And Leonardo, despite whatever he might think or feel or know of Primo, never forgets how dangerous he is. </p><p>He wonders if the boys Primo bed when he first disappeared to Rome understood who they had lay with. Truly who he was, what he was. Had they thought him playing a part? Pretending to be something? Had they thought his quiet menace an act? Had any of them loved him? Had they thought that loving him might soften him?</p><p>He’s never asked. He doesn’t want to know. Instead he likes to imagine, as he always has, that no one has ever known or loved Primo the way that he does. Totally and completely, even the terrible and ugly and annoying parts of him. The terrifying parts. The parts of him Leonardo wants to shake they make him so fucking angry. </p><p>Another kick to the thigh and Leo swats Primo’s leg without thinking about it. There’s a moment where the younger man stiffens but Leo takes his own long pull from the bottle and ignores it. He hands the bottle Primo was so impatient for over and their hands touch, linger. </p><p>Instead of annoyance or anger, or even that flash of something he couldn’t describe but always looks a lot like murderous intent, there is something heated in that sharp, pale gaze. It’s as familiar as the murderous rage and the drugged mania. Primo is high now but whatever it is, it wasn’t coke. Whatever it is has made him mellow and soft, and he was so rarely those things Leonardo could probably name the times he was.</p><p>”Sit beside me, Leo, my lion.” His lips curl up for the briefest moment.</p><p>They are the only ones here. Truly alone. And so he does. He sits beside him on crumbling block of sea wall and makes sure the bottle is set back into the groove of dirt it had been plucked up from. He sits close enough that they are touching, thigh to thigh, arm to arm, shoulder to shoulder. </p><p>“Our empire,” Primo says, motioning to the wide sea. Today is the first day they broke ground. Informally. </p><p>”Ours?” Leonardo asks, not looking at him just yet, even though he feels Primo’s eyes on his face. </p><p>”Ours,” Primo says, laughing softly. “I will be king, with you at my side. And Francesco- don’t give me that look, you old fuck- to take it over after. Our heir. If- <em>if</em>, you see, I said don’t look at me like you were going to, hmm? If he wants it.” </p><p>Leonardo doesn’t ask about his wife, about her place in this empire Primo is building. Primo is deliberately leaving her out and it is either because he does not care enough, doesn’t see her as enough of a threat, or he is trying to rile Leo up. </p><p>There are many years of this between them, his wife has thankfully never been a problem Primo has seen need to get rid of. Leo doesn’t doubt he would if he did. It’s selfish then, and dangerous, for Leo keep this up. But he could no sooner give up Primo than he could stop breathing.</p><p>He does turn then, looks at Primo. They are so very close. They have come together from much greater distances.</p><p>”Only if he wants it?” he questions, and is proud his voice only wavers slightly. </p><p>”We’ll send him to university like you want. Let him learn English and anything else he likes. He can make so many contacts at University, you see? He can’t be like that stupid Getty boy. And then he can come back to us. Our boy, a man!” His hand goes up dramatically. “And he can see that our empire goes on. But yes, you sentimental shit.” Primo’s hand cups Leonardo’s cheek, so fast and so hard it’s nearly a slap. Leonardo catches his wrist, fingers finding his pulse just to feel it. It’s strong but slow. “I’m not my fucking tiny cocked father or my fat stupid uncle. No man can love what he is forced to take, not truly, so yes... only if he wants it. He must love it, he must want it to grow.”</p><p>It’s a dig at Leonardo, as much as it’s a promise of freedom for his son. It’s a dig at his marriage and his entire life. Whatever it was in Primo that his father and uncle had hated so much... it existed in Leonardo as well. But he had been obedient where Primo had rebelled. He’d pushed it aside, taken the wife Salvatore gave him, fathered a son. And he loves his wife, his son. So much. So much. But he also knows it isn’t anything like the wildness and madness of how he loves Primo. And Primo knows it too. </p><p>It’s semantics though, and Primo doesn’t argue semantics.</p><p>The hand on his cheek moves to his neck, Primo’s long fingers wrapping around it, his thumb rubbing a gentle line up Leonardo’s throat. It makes Leonardo’s breath catch. </p><p>”You’re almost pretty like this,” Primo tells him, smiling wide. Marijuana then, he thinks he can smell it on his fingers, and laced with who knew what to make Primo this soft. In another man it would make Leonardo dismiss everything he says. But Leonardo knows Primo. Knows him so well. He wasn’t lying about Francesco, it wasn’t drugs talking. “Like the summer I turned eighteen. With those fucking curls of yours. Before they married you off.”</p><p>”Before you left for Rome and all it’s... <em>pleasures</em>,” he countered.</p><p>He swallows hard and for moment Primo’s grip tightens. Leonardo’s hand runs gently up and down his arm, fingers teasing the rolled up fabric of his shirtsleeve. That summer had been reckless. Foolish. Stupid. He would not do any of it differently. Not that summer. That summer had been theirs. Cementing something they had been circling for years. The two of them somehow mirror and opposite images of one another. Leo obedient, willing to hide parts of himself to survive. Primo more and more determined to make everyone see his differences. To deal with it. To deal with <em>him</em>. </p><p>”Do you want me to talk poetry to you?” Primo asks, his hand curling around the back of Leonardo’s neck now, pulling him closer. Their breaths mingling. “Do you want me to tell you how those pleasures paled in comparison to you? They did. None of them understood. You know? No one sees me but you. It’s why I should kill you.” Their lips drag together, he feels the flick of Primo’s tongue against his bottom lip. “It’s why I can’t,” he admits, those pale eyes looking into his, seeing more that Leonardo can handle him seeing.</p><p>”Yes you could,” he argues. Because it’s true. “You just don’t want to.” Also true. </p><p>Primo’s head falls back and he laughs until he’s breathless. Until Leonardo reaches out and steals the string tying his hair back and it falls loose over his finger tips. Soft. Freshly washed but still thick with product. He tangles his fingers in it and tugs. Primo’s head snaps back down, eyes on Leonardo’s again. His pupils too wide, irises too pale. His skin glowing from a day of sun and the fading light. </p><p>“I don’t want to,” he agrees, smirking, shark like. He shifts his head just to make Leonardo tug it again. “I want you to fuck me. That’s what I want. We spent that whole summer fucking outside, everywhere we could be alone. So fuck me now, Professor. Mister accountant. <em>Leonardo,</em>” the name is softer than the rest and so rarely used that Leonard has to lick his suddenly dry lips. “Will you fuck me?”</p><p>The answer is <em>always</em>, <em>yes</em>, <em>of course</em>. The hand around his neck drops, falls to his tie, deft fingers undoing the knot. He leaves it hanging there, works the buttons of Leonardo’s waistcoat open.</p><p>”I like when you dress like this,” Primo tells him. “Better than those old men sweaters, the ones you wear at home. Pretending you are old and tired.” That viciousness is back in his voice. </p><p>The first man Primo ever killed was his father. There’s no way to prove it, but he’s all but admitted it. Bragged about it really. Only to Leonardo. Leonardo can’t say the man didn’t deserve it. That he killed Salvatore seems as inevitable now as him murdering his father. Sometimes he wonders if Primo will kill him too. </p><p>”What am I really then, Primo, if not old and tired?”</p><p>Primo’s face falls serious and in spite of Leonardo’s hand twisted in his hair he sits up. He leans closer and he takes a kiss. Violent, fast, tongue insistent and licking into Leonardo’s mouth. It’s claiming. It’s dirty and deep and Leonardo gives as good as he gets. Primo’s long leg drops over his and then his lap is full of this long legged devil that he loves so much. Their lips break apart. Primo is looking at him so intently, breathless. He rocks into his lap and they both groan softly. </p><p>”You are my <em>lion</em>,” Primo tells him, working his shirt open. “You are mine.” Cool hands on his chest. The cool air from the water. It makes him shudder. “You want this too.” He’s not just talking about sex but he does roll his hips and push down into Leonardo again. They’re both so hard now. “You are not old and tired, you want a kingdom. To rule beside me. You want it, you’ve always wanted it, we have always wanted it. And it’s ours, my lion.”</p><p>Leonardo’s hands start the busy work of unbuttoning Primo’s clothing until he is as half naked as Leo himself. He leans forward, mouth on his chest. Licking, biting, leaving marks no one will see because he knows, he knows that Primo won’t be with anyone else. Not for a while. Just like Leonardo will go home and avoid fucking his wife. It’s not shame, though he knows it should be. It’s wanting to remember this. To hold onto the feeling and memory of it.  </p><p>“I like you better on this,” Leonardo tells him honestly, before he bites a nipple and Primo does nothing to stop the moan that passes his lips. “Whatever the fuck it is, it’s better than the fucking coke.”</p><p>”Not this again, it’s boring. Fuck me instead.”</p><p>He hates that Primo does this shit. Hates that he knows there’s nothing he can do to stop him. Not even loving him as he does is enough for that. </p><p>He looks up at Primo and Primo looks down at him. For a moment both are quiet. Then Primo puts his hand in his hair and tugs harshly. It puts his neck at an awkward angle but it means Primo can kiss him again. And he does. Kisses him like he wants to devour him. </p><p>Leonardo assumes the talking part is done. His hands pushing between them to work Primo’s belt open. Popping the button on his pants and pulling the zipper down. He slides one hand in and wraps his hand around Primo’s cock. It earns him a bite to his lower lip and a sharp hiss. Primo pulls away, stands. Kicks his shoes off. And then without shame he pulls his pants down and kicks them off as well. Naked as the fucking sun sets, the dramatic little fuck.</p><p>Leo is huffing a laugh, shaking his head as he bends and grabs the pants, checking the pockets until he finds it. Lube. The first time they’d done this Primo hadn’t known shit about prep. He rarely took being told what to do well, except when it came to sex. Leonardo raises an eyebrow and Primo shrugs his shoulders and jerks his head to get his hair out of his face. Some lessons stuck. Rarely had they found themselves unprepared after that.</p><p>”Get my cock out and get back in my lap,” Leonardo says, sitting back up, shifting a bit so can lean back. </p><p>Primo bites his bottom lip and then does as he’s told. Those long fucking fingers wrapping around Leo’s length and jerking slowly. Teasing. </p><p>Leo growls low in his throat and grabbed Primo’s thick thighs, pulling him back into his lap. His hands knead those thighs and his lips catch Primo’s, kissing him hard. Taking what he wants in a way he doesn’t always get to take. God above, he wants him. He is infuriatingly desirable. He shouldn’t be. He shouldn’t. He shouldn’t be something Leo wants and loves and needs this much. </p><p>Like romancing his own death. </p><p>The top pops open easily and he squeezes a messy amount onto his fingers. He wraps his arms around Primo and jerks him in tighter so that he can run slick fingers down between his cheeks. Palm squeezing the perfectly round curve of Primo’s ass. Always on display with his fucking tight pants. He can feel Primo practically vibrating with need and so he only just teases at his hole before pushing one finger inside of his tight heat. A high pitched whine is pressed into Leonardo’s mouth and he would swear he can taste it.</p><p>Their lips don’t leave each other’s, kissing and kissing even when their jaws ache and their lips are bruised. It doesn’t matter. Primo pushes back on his finger and Leonardo presses a second into him. Primo moans and keeps pushing back onto the movement of Leo’s fingers. Leo licks into his mouth, tasting nothing but their shared liquor and Primo. He doesn’t realize he is moaning himself.</p><p>Primo breaks the kiss with a low growl. “Just fuck me, old man, fuck me.”</p><p>Leo’s free hand caught Primo’s face, forced him to look at him. Another time and this would be a fight. This would explode into violence. Now, here, it stops Primo’s decent into a mad and furious impatience. Leonardo’s grip softens but held and he starts to slow the way he is fucking him with his fingers. He nods his head and Primo mimicks the movement.</p><p>”We’re taking our time,” he says quietly. “In our kingdom. We take our time.”</p><p>”We’re taking our time,” Primo murmurs, copying the words. Taking them in. Soft.</p><p>There is a fierce protectiveness that rises in him and he’s grateful that the sun is nearly gone and sea wall is still enough to keep anyone from seeing. It doesn’t matter that there is no one. This Primo, this Primo is his. And his alone. </p><p>”What was the first thing I told you?” he asks, as he adds a third finger and Primo whimpers and whines desperately. </p><p>”It shouldn’t hurt,” Primo says softly. </p><p>Leonardo nods. He doesn’t know what the fuck Primo does when he’s off in Rome or who the fuck knew where. What mattered most was this- what happened between them. He wouldn’t be a person who hurt Primo. No matter what. There were enough of those. Too many. And maybe Primo didn’t need his protection now. Maybe it was too late. But he had it. He wasn’t going to hurt him.</p><p>”It shouldn’t hurt,” he said.</p><p>Watching Primo’s body move, lithe and primal, as he fucks him with his fingers makes his own cock ache. The way he moves is like a lurid dance. Finally, when Primo’s eyes are soft and he looks almost lost in this feeling, Leonardo pulls his fingers slowly from him. He lets go of Primo’s face and Primo drops his head to his shoulder, turning his face in Leonardo’s neck. </p><p>”Do you still want me to fuck you?” he asks softly. He knows the answer but the asking feels important. </p><p>”Si, please,” comes the quiet reply and Leonardo’s heart wants to jump from his chest. </p><p>Primo lifts his hips and Leo slicks his cock with more lube, hissing at how hard he is now. And then Primo is lowering himself down onto him. He’s being slow, taking his time. And Leonardo knows he’s remembering what Leo said. It shouldn’t hurt. So he waits, waits until he’s fully seated in Leo’s lap. Let’s them both breathe as they take in the feeling. It hasn’t even been that long since the last time. But there’s something about today. </p><p>He lets go of Primo only long enough to shrug his jacket off his own shoulders finally. He wraps it around Primo’s wide shoulders as he shivers. It’s too chilly for him to be so naked as he is. His arms wrap around him again, keep him pressed close. And after a while, he doesn’t know or care how long they stay just like that, Primo begins to rock his hips. It’s barely a movement but it feels so good. </p><p>“There you go,” Leo murmurs, turning his head, their lips meeting as Primo finally lifts his head. </p><p>There’s enough space between them now that Primo can really move, his back arching, hips rolling, and Leo can push up into him. He’s so fucking tight, so hot. Primo’s arms are wrapped around his neck and when their lips finally do part his head falls back on his long neck. One hand pushes into Primo’s hair, gentle now, not the tugging from before. The other hand spreads across his bare chest. The noises he’s making are unbridled and unfiltered, soft pleasure pouring from his lips. </p><p>“Beautiful,” Leonardo breathes. </p><p>Primo’s head drops, their eyes meeting. And Primo is gone to this, lost in it, eyes trusting and open. Young. So young. </p><p>”You’re beautiful, Primo,” he says again, and feels Primo tighten around him, a shiver running up his spine. “So fucking beautiful like this.”</p><p>A quiet whimper, breath catching, Primo’s forehead rests against his. He starts to fuck him a little harder, each thrust a little stronger. Primo matches him perfectly. </p><p>He reaches between them, wraps his hand around Primo’s cock. He moans, jerking, his breath uneven. Leonardo knows it won’t be long now. </p><p>They’re both so quiet, just soft noises and heavy breathing. The slick sound of Leonardo’s cock pushing into him again and again. Leonardo’s thighs ache but he barely feels it over the pleasure of having Primo like this. </p><p>“Please,” Primo breaths again and Leo kisses him.</p><p>His hand tightens on Primo’s cock and he starts to fuck into him faster now, jerks his cock to same rhythm. It doesn’t take more than a few strokes and then Primo’s crying out against Leonardo’s lips and coming all over his hand and his own stomach. He tightens so much around Leonardo’s cock that Leon only thrusts in once more before his own orgasm overtakes him, until there is nothing but Primo. The tight heat of him, the warmth of his body in his lap and pressed so close. They ride it out, until finally neither of them can move. And they stay that way. Messy and trying to catch their breath.</p><p>”Not bad for an old man, hmm?” he teases gently. He can feel Primo smiling against his neck. “Still fuck like a lion? Not just in and out? Not small?”</p><p>”Shut the fuck up,” comes the still soft reply, but Primo is sounding a bit more put together now. </p><p>He does. He wraps his arms around Primo, his jacket still balanced on those broad shoulders. This moment won’t last, but he’s going to take it while he can. He loves every version of Primo he has ever seen, but he knows how rare this is. A gift from god, he doesn’t care if it’s blasphemy to think so. </p><p>He doesn’t think love can truly ever be blasphemy anyway. Cruel and complicated and delicate and soft and... unending. So unending. But not blasphemy. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Listen... I don’t know okay. All I know is Leonardo loves Primo and Primo loves Leonardo. Like... wtf has this show done to me?</p></blockquote></div></div>
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